


Small Victories

by FictionalKnight (Northern_Star)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-25
Updated: 2009-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Star/pseuds/FictionalKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce comes home exhausted, but finds he can't get into bed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Victories

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small birthday present for [](http://gpmanda.livejournal.com/profile)[**gpmanda**](http://gpmanda.livejournal.com/). HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! (It doesn't exactly match your prompt, but it really was inspired by it, I promise!)

Bruce entered his bedroom through one of the windows. He rarely did so - Alfred would lecture him about the need to keep the armor in the batcave every time Bruce transgressed this rule - but sometimes, like tonight, when he was too tired to care, he did it anyway.

And tonight, _too tired to care_ was an understatement. Bruce was exhausted, sore, broken almost. He'd been chasing after yet another group of loonies who had escaped from Arkham - he'd spent the evening and the better part of the night trying to catch them, but they always found a way to elude him.

Bruce knew that his lack of concentration - and, hence, his failure to capture his intended prey - came from having gotten very little sleep in the last three days. But how could he sleep, when there were lunatics out there, threatening the good people of Gotham?

Batman had finally decided to call it a night when his movements had become so sluggish that he'd managed to slip off a rooftop and tumble down to a balcony, three floors below. He'd be sporting a large bruise on his side for days, he knew, but luckily, he hadn't been injured any more seriously than that.

So, tired, aching, and defeated - at least for now - Bruce had hoisted himself up to the second floor of the manor, and entered his bedroom through the open window.

As soon as he got inside, he noticed a large human-sized shape sprawled across the bed.

Clark.

Bruce smiled, feeling some of the tension leave his body immediately. Clark was back, and that thought alone was sufficient to give Bruce comfort.

He removed his costume slowly and as quietly as he could, trying not to wince in pain a few times along the way. After placing every part of his armor neatly on the floor, next to an oversized chair, Bruce turned toward the bed and...

He sighed.

Clark was pretty much taking up the entire surface of the bed. Lying diagonally across the mattress, he had his feet on his own usual side and his head on what was technically Bruce's pillow. There was no way Bruce could possibly climb into bed without waking him.

Considering Clark's heightened sense of hearing, it was a wonder he hadn't woken up yet as a matter of fact. That, combined with the fact that Superman had been away on a rescue mission in Africa for the past four days, made it obvious to Bruce that Clark had to have been exhausted by the time he'd finally made it home.

Knowing that Clark always stubbornly refused to admit that he needed any sleep at all, Bruce was even more reluctant to wake him, even if just for a moment, while he slipped between the covers himself. Besides, he also had a feeling that Clark would want to know what had been going on here during his absence, and that he'd more than likely make a fuss over Bruce's most recent injuries. There was no need for that.

So, resigned, Bruce grabbed a blanket on top of the chest at the foot of the bed, then walked back to the oversized chair and sat down, covering himself with the soft fleece blanket.

For the longest time, although he was well past the point of exhaustion, Bruce sat there, almost mesmerized, silently watching the slow rise and fall of Clark's chest as he breathed, his upper body bathed in the soft moonlight coming from the window that Bruce hadn't bothered to close.

All of a sudden, Clark started tossing and he opened his eyes abruptly, sucking in a sharp breath. Bruce shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind of cobwebs; he'd been just about to fall asleep.

"Hey," Clark called, in a thick, sleep-laden voice. "What are you doing all the way over there?"

"Didn't want to wake you," Bruce explained, stretching his arms over his head.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"Not long," Bruce lied. It must have been at least an hour, he knew, but he had no real notion of the passage of time. Besides, it wasn't as though he'd really minded sitting here in quiet contemplation.

Clark scooted all the way back to his own side of the bed. "You're a terrible liar, you know," he said in a chuckle.

Putting on a falsely offended expression, Bruce immediately protested, "I am not! You just happen to be the world's only living, breathing, lie-detector..."

"Uh huh."

Clark pulled the sheets down and patted the now vacant side of the bed in invitation. When Bruce made no attempt to get up from his chair, Clark frowned and asked, "Are you coming? Or should I mail you a formal invitation?"

"You need more sleep," Bruce argued, "And we both know you're not going to get any if I join you."

"You need sleep, too," Clark replied, propping himself on one elbow. "And we both know you sleep better when you're not alone."

Bruce muttered something under his breath. He got up and let the blanket drop back on the chair. "Fine," he said, getting into bed, "You win."

"Well, hurray for small victories," Clark replied and he pulled the sheets back to cover them both.

Bruce turned on one side to face him, shaking his head. He refrained from pointing out that no matter how big or small, Clark usually won every time. And quite often - though he'd never openly confess to it - because Bruce let him win.

When Clark wrapped an arm around his waist, Bruce couldn't help but notice how incredibly warm his skin was. "How is it that you're always so warm? It's freezing in here..."

"Solar powered, baby," Clark replied, amused, and he pulled Bruce a little closer to him.

Bruce slipped one leg between Clark's, and gently ran a foot up and down the back of his shin. "The sunshine to my moonlight," he whispered, eyes closed, slowly losing the battle against sleep. "I hope you were planning on sleeping late."

"As late as you need."

Yawning, Bruce replied, "How does next Tuesday sound?"

"Sounds awfully far..." Clark told him, yawning as well. Then he brushed a small kiss on Bruce's forehead and added, "But I guess I can let you win this one."

"Hurray for small victories," Bruce managed to reply as he finally fell asleep.

=> End.


End file.
